


A Hint of Osculation

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-16
Updated: 2006-06-16
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean clenches his jaw and desperately tries to ignore Sam. All day. All fucking day, this has been going on, and nothing Dean could say would make Sam stop.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

A Hint of Osculation

A Hint of Osculation  
Pairing: Sam/Dean  
Rating: 18+  
Warnings: incest  
Summary: Dean clenches his jaw and desperately tries to ignore Sam. All day. All fucking day, this has been going on, and nothing Dean could say would make Sam stop.  
AN: So, I had this plot bunny about a month ago, but nothing came of it but a few lines. I woke up this morning, and I was up for twenty minutes and had a page and a half written. *shrugs* Idiotic plot bunnies. Anyhoo, this is entirely the fault of reading too many Star Wars fics, and what those Jedi’s can do with the Force.  
Spoilers: Uuum, very light for Nightmare, because of things found out about Sam. Yeah, you know the ones.  
  
  
Dean clenches his jaw and desperately tries to ignore Sam. All day. All fucking day, this has been going on, and nothing Dean could say would make Sam stop. Sneaking a look at his brother, Dean grips his fingers tighter on the steering wheel as the younger man looks innocently out the passenger window.  
  
Dean almost jerks the wheel when he feels the slide of a finger over the tip of his cock, trailing down the hard shaft only to disappear at the base. Glancing down quickly, reflexively at his jeans, still zipped and buttoned, Dean suppresses a moan in the back of his throat.  
  
When they get back to the motel, Dean’s going to _kill_ Sam.   
  
It had started out innocently enough. A touch to the back of his neck, making Dean absently scratch. A light brush across his back, but no one there when he turned.   
  
Then the touches had gotten bolder. A hand cupping his ass and squeezing, but Dean was sitting down in the car by himself. A light pinch to his nipples while he talked to the cute waitress in the diner. A sucking kiss to his pulsepoint while he drank his coffee.  
  
The touches had gotten more frequent as the day went on, growing bolder and bolder, until Dean felt a familiar calloused hand squeeze his erection while he sat in the library, Sam researching intently at the next table. Dean had barely held back a whimper as the hand stroked him firmly, the way Sam knew he liked. Dean had stared at Sam, narrowing his eyes as the younger man’s lip twitched.  
  
He was going to kill Sam.  
  
Shaking his head, Dean pulls into the motel lot, parking as quickly as he can and jumping out of the car. Not looking at Sam, he calmly walks into their room, waiting for the younger man to follow him. Dean grins as Sam slowly enters the room, obviously trying to avoid following Dean inside. Dean lunges at him but Sam dodges, laughing as he jumps over the bed and locks himself in the bathroom.  
  
“Goddammit, Sam! Get your ass out here and finish what you started, you pussy!” Dean yells through the thin door, frustration washing through him.  
  
“Ooooh, I love it when you talk sweet to me! Say it again, Dean!” Sam says in a falsetto voice, oozing sarcasm.  
  
Dean punches the wall, swearing under his breath as his knuckle splits. “I’m warning you, Sam! Get out here right now!”  
  
All Sam does is laugh and turn the shower on.  
  
Muttering, Dean gets his lock pick case out of his duffle and kneels in front of the door. Frowning in concentration, Dean carefully moves the pick, smiling at the familiar sound of the faint clicks. Dean puts the case on the floor beside the door and stands, confidently turning the handle and-nothing happens.  
  
“What the hell?” Dean says as he jiggles the handle again.  
  
Sam crows through the door as Dean swears again, “You having some problems out there, Dean?”  
  
Dean grabs his case and tosses it back in his duffle, ripping his clothes off and changing into his boxers. “Fuck this,” he says as he flops back onto the bed. He rubs his cock a few times, but he’s too frustrated and angry to do anything and he sighs. Flicking one last look at the bathroom door, he closes his eyes, automatically sliding his hand under his pillow and gripping his knife.  
  
He’s half asleep when Sam finally opens the door, leaving the light on in the bathroom as he putters around the room. Dean resolutely ignores him, trying to go to sleep. Until the touches start again. Dean makes to roll over to tell Sam to fuck off, but finds his hands pinned where they lay on the bed.  
  
“Sam, what the fu-” Dean starts to say, turning his head to look at Sam. The younger man is sitting on the other bed, wrapped only in a towel, still damp from his shower. The front of the thin towel is tented from Sam’s erection and Dean swallows hard. His hand clenches around the knife hilt as he stares at the younger man, arousal spiking through him.  
  
The touches suddenly become firmer, going from barely there, to feeling like Sam’s actually touching Dean with his hands. God, even the callouses are right. Dean squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing the groan forming low in his chest.  
  
“Goddammit, Sammy, if you’re fucking teasing me again, I’m going to _kill_ you. No, wait, no sex for a month if you don’t fucking _finish_ me.” Dean says as he squeezes the knife hilt under the pillow. Dean turns his head to look at his brother and can’t help but feel that Sam knows exactly what Dean’s hand is doing to the knife.  
  
Sam just smiles slightly, legs splayed and hanging off the side of the bed as he leans back on his elbows, watching Dean. Phantom fingers stroke over Dean’s nipples, scratching and pulling, teasing the sensitive flesh until Dean is arching up. Suddenly, a wet stripe is licked from Dean’s collarbone to the hem of his boxers, and he jerks, going completely still as air is blown over the damp flesh.  
  
Dean flicks his eyes back to Sam and jerks his hips reflexively at the sight. Sam’s eyes are half-lidded, almost all pupil and his cheeks have two bright red spots, giving more evidence to his arousal. Sam’s tongue flickers out to wet his lips and Dean bites his lip as heat shoots through him.  
  
The touches increase and they feel like they’re everywhere all at once. A tongue trails along his collarbone as teeth tug on his bellybutton. Dean’s toes are sucked on, as breath ghosts down his spine, and a tongue abruptly thrusts into him.  
  
Dean whines, his eyes rolling in his head as the sensations wash over him, all the while hands, rubbing, teasing, touching him. Dean cries out, his whole body going into spasms, hovering just on the edge, with nothing touching his cock.  
  
Abruptly, all the touches disappear, and Dean shudders at the lack of stimulation, the pain of being brought so close then left hanging.  
  
“Sam, ohgod, Sam, please,” Dean whimpers, writhing on the bed, willing, begging the touches to come back. Sam chuckles, a low erotic sound that send goosebumps racing over Dean. He looks at his brother sprawled on the other bed, rubbing a hand lightly over his terrycloth clad erection, and Dean’s breath catches. “ _Sam,_ fuck me, _please_.”  
  
Sam smiles at him, one of those carefree smiles that Dean loves seeing, the one that only rarely surfaces. Dean stills and stares at Sam, a picture of debauchery and sin laying across a cheap motel bed.  
  
_‘Oh, god, let me sin forever,’_ Dean thinks, almost unwillingly, unable to voice the words, as the touches begin again. Fingertips trail over Dean’s stomach, tracing the lines of muscle, ghosting through his thatch of pubic hair, past his cock and over his balls, only to thrust into him. Dean pants as the fingers work into him, over and over, stretching him, never touching his prostate.  
  
“Sam, oh fuck, Jesus!” Dean yelps as another hand cups his balls and begins to squeeze, rolling them gently for a moment before both hands withdraw once again. Dean grits his teeth in frustration, sighing in relief when the hand return, urging his hips up and sliding his boxers off.  
  
Dean is struck by the absurdity of the moment when his boxers float across the room and neatly fold themselves before sliding into his duffle. Swallowing the urge to laugh, Dean glances over at Sam as the younger man gets up from the bed. Dragging the desk chair to the foot of the bed, Sam sits down, calmly loosening the towel and letting it slide to the floor  
  
Dean forces himself to breathe as Sam strokes himself, once, twice, and sits down on the chair. Two fingers gently press into Dean and he tightens his grip once again on the knife, his fingers long since numb from holding the hilt. The fingers gently scissor him open and Dean arches into the touch, trying to force them deeper, harder, anything but the maddening pace that Sam has set.  
  
The fingers disappear, only to be replaced by something harder, hotter, and Dean moans low in his throat, lifting his head to watch Sam as the younger man strokes himself, and Dean has to wonder if Sam is using his power on himself while he pleasures Dean. Dean’s mind is bombarded with pictures of Sam in the shower, moaning and twitching, coming without physically touching himself, practicing, because of course Sam wouldn’t try this on Dean without being in complete control.  
  
Dean’s brought back to the present by the feel of a hot chest rubbing against his own, his cock sliding against firm abs. His eyes fly to Sam, still sitting on the chair, stroking himself in time with the hardness pressing into Dean.  
  
The angle changes, and Dean whines as his prostate is rubbed and the touches return. Fingers and lips and teeth are everywhere, stroking and biting and licking and Dean can’t take it. His vision whites out as he hears himself cry out Sam’s name, waves of pleasure rolling over him that never seem to end.  
  
The touches ease, gentling before disappearing completely, and Dean groggily lifts his head to look at Sam. The younger man’s head is thrown back and his hand moves on his cock as his hips snap up and down. Dean forces himself to move, no longer pinned to the bed. He winces when he lets go of the knife, tensing and relaxing his hand as he wipes his stomach off with the comforter and drags himself off the bed.  
  
His legs wobble slightly as he stumbles toward Sam, oblivious to anything but his own pleasure. Sam’s eyes snap open as Dean touches his shoulder with one hand, cupping the back of Sam’s head with the other and bringing their lips together. God, this was what Dean had been missing all day, feeling Sam’s lips on his, warm skin solid under his. Dean’s eyes flutter shut as Sam cries out into his mouth, stiffening as he comes.   
  
Dean holds Sam as his orgasm ebbs before he pulls the younger man out of the chair, dragging him to Sam’s bed.   
  
“C’mon, Sammy, gotta get in bed,” Dean mutters on a yawn, feeling lethargy creeping through him as he struggles to get Sam under the covers. Sam blinks sleepily at him as they finally fall naked onto the bed, legs tangled together.  
  
Sam’s eyes slowly close as he smiles at Dean, and whispers, “Love you.”  
  
Dean feels warmth pulse through him, and he stops himself from groaning or making a smart comment. He waits until Sam’s breathing turns deep and even, feeling sleep steal over him as he whispers back,   
  
“Yeah, me too.”  
  
Fin.


End file.
